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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644165">Any Memory of We</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip'>swampslip</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:))))), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beecher's Hope, Drunken Confessions, Epilogue, Exhibitionism, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Voyeurism, eheheh, establish charthur from before but only sorta established morston, jack is not john's son by blood, so like polyam in a way but one of the people is dead..., the journal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:00:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you don’t want me talkin’ ‘bout him like- Y’know, I’d understand, he was yours, at the end.”</p><p>“... I miss him,” Charles echoes John’s earlier statement and John nods roughly, “Burying him… It was odd, I felt relieved. He was suffering, and then he wasn’t.”</p><p>John raises his brows then huffs weakly and shakes his head in disbelief. </p><p>“Only you, Charles,” John mutters, “Could be so fuckin’ selfless.”</p><p>“I’m not-”</p><p>“I wasn’t relieved, I was miserable, I wanted the world to end,” John rubs at his eyes again, “Felt like it had. He told me to go be ‘a man’... I know what he meant, and I knew I’d never live up to it.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, John Marston/Arthur Morgan, John Marston/Charles Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Any Memory of We</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>please let me know in the comments if how many tears you shed while reading this so i can add them to my tally, thanks</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The voice pierces him like a blade to his gut and John’s name is out of his mouth before he’s even fully facing the younger man.</p><p>Charles notices the eyes-</p><p>Then the hat-</p><p>Then the eyes, again, a breath of familiarity when he’s been drowning in desperation, distrust, and world-weariness.</p><p>And then an iciness in his throat as he grabs at John, that desperation, again, elated and happy just for a moment, the first moment in months and years of misery and he stares at the hat. </p><p>Looks at Uncle, looks back at John. </p><p>“And you… Like that?”</p><p>Charles’ happiness falls out of him in one fell swoop and he tilts his head, looking at John just for a second, despondent. </p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>Like John’s forgotten anything about him and his views on unnecessary violence, like John’s forgotten him.</p><p>Then there’s flesh against his knuckles and blood dripping down his chest-</p><p>Money, in his hand, a murmuring crowd-</p><p>John’s touch on his shoulder while the younger man uproots everything he’s been planning for months. </p><p>“We got a lil’ place up past Blackwater, in the high country.”</p><p>And Charles takes that jump-</p><p>Why he thought for any <em>one</em> second that John wouldn’t bring him back into all that Hell and-</p><p>But there’s something that’s twisting in his gut, wanting to settle. </p><p>With John next to him… </p><p>There’s a bit of Arthur next to him, again, as well. </p><p>--</p><p>Uncle’s still as much of a nuisance to him as ever and Charles prefers it when the old man disappears into town on some errand or another. </p><p>The best is when he’s gone for several days, and it’s just him and John sitting at the fire at night. </p><p>“Did you n’ Arthur ever-?” John asks, hoarse and sudden in the moonlit relative quiet. </p><p>Charles lifts his eyes from the flames and turns his head to look at John, only to see the younger man flustering, waving his hand dismissively like he wants to take back that question, forget he ever asked. </p><p>Charles knows what he means but he wants to be sure. </p><p>“Ever what?”</p><p>John lets out a shaky breath and covers his mouth, then his eyes. </p><p>Whispering weakly. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Charles. Y’all ever get together like that?”</p><p>“... Yeah.”</p><p>John makes a small, weak sound of acknowledgment and keeps his eyes covered. </p><p>“Did you?” Charles asks quietly. </p><p>John shakes his head then pauses and shrugs. </p><p>“No, but… We… ‘Fore Abigail, ‘fore I left and fucked everythin’ up,” John says shakily and drops his hand from his eyes to dig out a cigarette, offering one to Charles, who declines, “We got each other off, once.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“... God,” John whispers and lights up, taking a deep drag and leaning back against the stump he’s sitting in front of, “Yeah, we were a bit wasted on some rum we’d swiped from a homestead job, found it under their bed. Good stuff, went down smooth n’ easy n’ we both… We both drank enough that we were dumb with it.”</p><p>Charles just watches him, as John’s hands tremble just a bit, his eyes hidden by the brim of <em>Arthur’s</em> hat. </p><p>“I miss him,” John admits, voice thick and wet. </p><p>Charles wonders if there are tears in his eyes under that damned hat’s brim. </p><p>“Was glad, really,” John continues, tapping off the ash then gesturing at Charles, “When you came along.”</p><p>“You were glad?”</p><p>“I mean when you… I saw when Arthur started likin’ you, the way he smiled at you, the tone he used when he spoke ‘bout you.”</p><p>“... When did you notice?”</p><p>John huffs quietly and rubs at his scars with the big joint of his thumb. </p><p>“Maybe a week or two after you joined,” John whispers, “Sure you remember he wasn’t at camp when you found us. When he came back and you were there and new and… He wanted you, I could tell.”</p><p>“... We didn’t get together until Colter.”</p><p>“Really?” John lifts his head in surprise and there <em>are</em> tears in his eyes, reflecting the firelight. </p><p>“You were down from the wolves and… We were mostly hunting… It more or less just happened.”</p><p>John’s lips press together and from here Charles can see the way it pulls the skin around his scars. </p><p>“He kiss you first?” John asks quietly. </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>John’s lips tug into a smile again and he shakes his head then slumps down, covering his face again. </p><p>Charles reaches over and plucks the neglected cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag when John doesn’t protest. </p><p>“He almost never let himself have what he wanted,” John says slowly, “Would fight himself over buyin’ new boots or a particularly expensive coat even if we were comfortable at the time. But towards the end, it seemed… Seemed like he was more sure of himself, a lot of the time, of what he wanted.”</p><p>“He wasn’t,” Charles shakes his head, “He wasn’t sure.”</p><p>“There’s… He wrote ‘bout you, a lot,” John mumbles, “Got his journal. I can… He has some pages in it, folded together. I don’t wanna read them.”</p><p>“About me?”</p><p>“I don’t know if he realized what he was givin’ me when-” John takes a deep breath and steels himself, pulling his hands away and reaching up to take off the hat, cradling it in his lap, rubbing his thumb over a nick in the brim, “He gave me this, his bag, journal was inside. I still don’t know why.”</p><p>“Why what?” Charles asks and gestures roughly at the hat, “Why he gave you the most important things he had on him?”</p><p>John’s chest hitches and he makes a broken sound then rubs roughly at his eyes, grunting and sitting up straighter. </p><p>“Fuck if I know,” John mutters, “I don’t.”</p><p>“You do.”</p><p>“He hated me, for so long, right almost until he died. Thought I was the worst kinda person.”</p><p>“He didn’t-” Charles sighs and flicks the butt of the cigarette into the fire, “He didn’t <em>hate</em> you. He wanted you to be better.”</p><p>John squeezes the hat for a moment then holds it out to Charles. </p><p>The older man just looks at it, at John. </p><p>“C’mon,” John whispers roughly, “See you starin’ at it.”</p><p>Charles slowly takes the hat from John and brings it over his crossed legs, eyes flicking over the worn leather. </p><p>“Kills me, sometimes, wearin’ that thing,” John whispers, “Bought a new hat, a couple months after… Put that one in the bottom of a trunk and tried to forget about it.”</p><p>“Yet you wear it like your own, now.”</p><p>John nods and draws his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it. </p><p>“Wanted to be him, when I was little, used to steal it from him when he was sleepin’, made him so mad at first. Then he just found it annoyin’,” John sighs quietly and scratches at his scars again, “Then I didn’t wanna <em>be</em> him.”</p><p>“How old were you, when you two…?”</p><p>“Twenty,” John mutters, “I kissed him.”</p><p>“... Oh.”</p><p>“If you don’t want me talkin’ ‘bout him like- Y’know, I’d understand, he was <em>yours</em>, at the end.”</p><p>“... I miss him,” Charles echoes John’s earlier statement and John nods roughly, “Burying him… It was odd, I felt relieved. He was suffering, and then he wasn’t.”</p><p>John raises his brows then huffs weakly and shakes his head in disbelief. </p><p>“Only you, Charles,” John mutters, “Could be so fuckin’ selfless.”</p><p>“I’m not-”</p><p>“I wasn’t relieved, I was miserable, I wanted the world to end,” John rubs at his eyes again, “Felt like it had. He told me to go be ‘a man’... I know what he meant, and I knew I’d never live up to it.”</p><p>“John,” Charles says then sighs deeply and struggles to gather his thoughts into words. </p><p>Instead, he holds the hat back over to John, who shakes his hands and leans away.</p><p>“You should have it.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Charles, please.”</p><p>“Take it.”</p><p>“<em>Charles</em>,” John says hoarsely.</p><p>“Fine, then trade me, let me read the journal,” Charles leans closer, shoving the hat against John’s chest and leveling the younger man with a serious look. </p><p>John stares at him with watery eyes then nods jerkily and takes the hat, holding it close and getting up onto his knees, crawling to grab his satchel then coming back. </p><p>Sitting closer to Charles, digging out the leather-bound book and handing it over. </p><p>Charles holds it for a moment, runs his fingers over the leather then undoes the soft latch and opens it. </p><p>The map of Blackwater makes him swallow thickly, take a moment. </p><p>His hand still bears those scars, forever changing the way it feels to nock an arrow. </p><p>John sits quietly next to him, hugging the hat in a way that makes him look so <em>young</em>. </p><p>Charles reads through Blackwater, Micah, Jenny, Davey, Colter, John and the wolves, Dutch-</p><p>Himself, and he comes to the first folded pages. </p><p>“Do you want me to go?” John whispers. </p><p>Charles just shakes his head, gently nudges his leg against John’s and leaves it there. </p><p>He can tell John’s trying not to look, as he carefully unfolds the pages and smooths them out. </p><p>There’s a drawing of himself, sitting in front of one of the fireplaces. </p><p>Then the rest of the spread is filled edge to edge with text, denser than any previous page. </p><p>On the first page, Arthur talks about going on the hunt, before, talks about making decisions or mistakes, and hoping that Charles won’t hate him, or leave. </p><p>The last paragraph starts- </p><p>
  <em>I did it. I shouldn’t have, but nothing too terrible has happened, and I wasn’t struck down by some divine anger. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I think being a fool this long was maybe just that, foolish. Shouldn’t have been so scared. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>It was better, than I thought, not sure if it’s the relief or that it’s been so long but I’ll be thinking about that for a while.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Even if it was just the once, I’m glad for it.</em>
</p><p>Charles lifts his hand and rubs over his mouth, remembering the way Arthur stepped closer and pressed their lips together and the way Arthur had grabbed his waist through his coat. </p><p>Charles had been stunned, then reciprocated for only a second before Arthur was pulling away and apologizing. </p><p>But Charles hadn’t let him, had pulled him back in and silenced any guilt on the older man’s part. </p><p>Charles looks at John next to him and John tenses lightly, eyes locked on the fire. </p><p>“You can read it,” Charles says quietly, “I know he… I don’t think he’d mind.”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“No,” Charles murmurs and shifts the journal closer to being between them, John’s leg a long line of warmth against his. </p><p>John holds the hat tighter and his eyes flick over the first page, reading quickly, then slowing when he gets to the last paragraph like Charles did. </p><p>Then John huffs softly. </p><p>“Idiot,” John mutters, “Never could believe anyone wanted him.”</p><p>Charles hums and moves his finger up to the first word of the next page. </p><p>Dragging his nail under each word so John’s reading along with him. </p><p>
  <em>Sitting back in this rickety little bed, can’t stop thinking about him.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Shouldn’t be writing this but I can’t exactly talk out these feelings with anyone but myself, so here it goes, me being a fool again.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>He’s real strong, real solid, different than anyone I’ve been with. Knew that, from looking, I know I knew that, feeling it was different, having him under my hands…</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Half a mind to invite him to sleep in here, wouldn’t that be foolish. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Not sure which is more pathetic, sitting here thinking about this, or being so eager in the first place. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Lord… That man.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>It’s been a long time, Mary, Eliza, a few other women in between and <strike>John</strike> JM. Most were far and few between, my own fault. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Wonder if JM remembers, even, we were so drunk and young and <span class="u">stupid.</span></em>
</p><p>John makes a weak sound next to him then covers his mouth with the brim of the hat. </p><p>Charles pauses, looks over at him, at John staring sadly at the words. </p><p>He nudges his leg more firmly against John’s and the younger man lifts his eyes to meet Charles’. </p><p>“Didn’t know if he remembered either,” John says shakily, “Was too scared to bring it up, he never did so I figured he either didn’t remember or didn’t want to.”</p><p>Charles watches him for a moment then looks back at the page, waits for John to look as well. </p><p>John leans a little bit against him, pressed from shoulder to hip to thigh. </p><p>
  <em>First time with a fella. I shouldn’t be writing this.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>I remember him laughing at me, teasing me, then leaning too close, like it was a joke.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Kissing me, then it wasn’t a joke anymore. He was small and thin, though, not like-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Liked it both times, thinking about it now, both of them, both times. How they were different, how they’re the same, why I’m doomed on both of them. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Stomach gets all tight when I think about them, at least I’ve got this room to myself. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Shouldn’t be writing this.</em>
</p><p><br/>“Fuck,” John mutters and lifts the hat to hide his face fully, “God, I’m an idiot.”</p><p>“I don’t think you are.”</p><p>“We both are,” John whispers and Charles makes an indignant sound, “I thought they’d just be ‘bout you, so I didn’t read them.”</p><p>“Arthur gave it to you,” Charles says quietly, “He had plenty of time to tear these pages out between Colter and…”</p><p>“Idiot,” John whispers and his face is still hidden, “I hate him.”</p><p>“You don’t.”</p><p>John huffs and sniffs roughly, dropping the hat to scrub at his eyes. </p><p>“There’s more,” John says, gesturing at the journal and struggling to his feet, “Further in.”</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“I can’t do this- I can’t- I thought if he remembered he <em>regretted</em> me, not that he was such a fool to-” John inhales sharply and gestures at the journal, “I need a drink.”</p><p>“Get me one, too, yeah?” Charles asks quietly and sees John nodding then heading towards their bags. </p><p>Charles flips around in the book to find the other folded pages, in the timeline of the surrounding pages he can guess what most of them are about. </p><p>The first was the first time they kissed, the second when they shared a bedroll, the third when they went hunting away from Clemen’s Point and he got off in Arthur’s lap, when Arthur blew him, when they fucked for the first time. </p><p>There’s a couple he can’t quite remember, and maybe they’re like the first, just Arthur writing out his thoughts. </p><p>John sits down roughly next him, still clutching the hat and now also a full bottle of whiskey. </p><p>He offers it to Charles, who sets the journal down and brings the bottle up to rip the wax seal open with his teeth. </p><p>John makes a small, amused sound, watching him. </p><p>Charles pops the cork and takes a sip, clearing his throat and holding it out to John. </p><p>John takes it and drinks deeply, then presses the bottle to his forehead, cursing quietly. </p><p>“You alright?” Charles whispers. </p><p>“No,” John laughs roughly, “I <em>miss</em> him.”</p><p>Charles runs his tongue over his teeth then closes the journal. </p><p>“What happened, when you kissed him?” Charles asks quietly. </p><p>“He went real still n’ I thought he was gonna shove me off or punch me or shoot me or-” John gestures with the bottle and takes another swig, “Didn’t though, just let me do whatever for a couple seconds ‘til I pulled back. Whole thing was… I was ribbin’ him for bein’ alone, not gettin’ any, then said I’d be willin’.”</p><p>John mutters under his breath and turns a bit towards Charles, hugging Arthur’s hat harder and passing the bottle. </p><p>“So stupid now,” John whispers “Thinkin’ ‘bout it, it was all an excuse. Wanted to kiss him forever.”</p><p>“You said you got each other off?” Charles prompts quietly and John looks up at him, just a bit hazy. </p><p>Charles subtly weighs the bottle in his hand and realizes John’s almost downed half of it. </p><p>“He was kinda… Kinda just let me kiss him, right, like he wasn’t kissin’ back so I pulled back, was just ‘jokin’... But he looked- He looked embarrassed, grabbed my hands and kept me in place,” John rubs the brim of Arthur’s hat against his lower lip, looks down at it, “So I sat myself in his lap, kissed him again.”</p><p>Charles shifts his legs as he feels his cock twitch with interest, starting to harden. </p><p>“He kept askin’ me if I was sure n’ apologizin’ n’ tryin’ to do right by me,” John sighs and goes quiet for a moment, “Guess he was guilty, or somethin’, but he was hard, we both were even with the liquor. So I started grindin’ on him n’ brushin’ our lips together. Wanted him to give in.”</p><p>Charles makes a rough sound and sits up a bit. </p><p>John looks up at him again. </p><p>Charles licks over his bottom lip, embarrassed by all of this even though he started it.</p><p>“He did,” John says quietly, “Kissed me and started tuggin’ my hips n’ rockin’ up against me.”</p><p>“He was good at that,” Charles says roughly and swallows, “Guiding you, moving you.”</p><p>“Yeah, n’ when he knew what he wanted he knew how to get it. Almost came just listenin’ to him moanin’ and whisperin’ my name. Could feel him leakin’ through his drawers.”</p><p>Charles holds very still for a second then moves his hands to the closure of his trousers, not meeting John’s eyes as he slips the buttons free. </p><p>“... Charles?” John asks shakily, sitting up, watching him with wide eyes. </p><p>Charles reaches out and tugs him back so the younger man is sitting right next to him, right up against him, sliding his arm behind John’s waist and squeezing the younger as he pulls his cock out with his other hand. </p><p>John makes a soft sound of surprise and watches as Charles starts to stroke himself, feels the bottle digging into his side. </p><p>“Keep talking,” Charles whispers, “Please.”</p><p>“He- <em>He</em> was talkin’ a bunch, ramblin’, ‘bout how good I felt, how- How pretty I looked, then he took me out and started playin’ with me so I did the same,” John watches as Charles’ cock jerks, hard and leaking with the older man’s hand rubbing up the length and squeezing. </p><p>“Did… Did he do that thing with his fingers-?” Charles asks breathily and demonstrates, bringing two fingers up and sliding them on either side of his cock, just under the flare of the head and gritting his teeth. </p><p>John stares, swallows, nods. </p><p>“Shit,” Charles mutters and groans as he cups the head of his cock and just squeezes for a moment, “Loved his hands, big as they were he was real good with them.”</p><p>“He… He had his other hand down the back of my drawers,” John whispers, “Squeezin’ my ass n’ rubbin’... Between.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Charles grunts as his cock pulses pre-come onto his palm, “You ever get around to doing that with anyone else?”</p><p>John stares at him, shakes his head. </p><p>“Didn’t trust anyone else.”</p><p>Charles nods his understanding then pants, open-mouthed as he strokes himself again. </p><p>“He was talkin’ ‘bout it though,” John whispers, “Bounced me in his lap a couple times and said he wanted me to ride him, wanted to watch me.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Charles inhales sharply and squeezes himself, “Damn, yeah, you’d look so good.”</p><p>John goes quiet then squirms next to him and Charles looks over to see John hiding with the hat again, pants tented. </p><p>“You can,” Charles says thickly. </p><p>John shakes his head and Charles feels him trembling against him, squeezes the younger man lightly. </p><p>“It’s alright, John,” Charles whispers and turns his head to press his forehead against John’s temple, “Promise.”</p><p>John just shakes his head again and holds the hat tighter to his face but he leans more heavily against Charles, curling into the older man’s side. </p><p>“We can keep reading those pages, when you want,” Charles murmurs and squeezes John again, “Think you’re in more of it.”</p><p>Arthur would probably find a way to kick his ass from the beyond if he fucked this up. </p><p>If he hurt John. </p><p>Charles closes his eyes and holds onto John as he starts to stroke himself faster, hips rocking into his own touch. </p><p>Muffling a curse as he starts to come, spreading his legs and letting his cock pulse streaks onto the sand. </p><p>When he sits up and opens his eyes again John’s staring, hugging Arthur’s hat. </p><p>“Too much?” Charles asks between labored breaths and John meets his eyes, looks over at the foundation of the house they’re building. </p><p>“I don’t know,” John says weakly. </p><p>“... Should I apologize?”</p><p>“No… Nah, that’s not-” John swallows and shifts and the bulge in his pants is still obvious, “Arthur… Arthur wanted me to be a father, be <em>better</em>, like you said.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Jack’s not mine,”  And when Charles makes a small sound of protest, John cuts him off sharply, “He’s <em>not</em>.”</p><p>They both fall quiet and John groans, rubbing his forehead and taking the bottle from Charles’ arm around him. </p><p>“I’ve thought about it a million times, I swear, he can’t be mine…”</p><p>“Is… Is he Arthur’s?” Charles asks quietly. </p><p>He’s thought about it before, the possibility. </p><p>“He’s either Arthur’s or Javier’s… But, hell, Charles, you’ve seen the boy,” John says roughly, “The older he gets the more he looks like <em>him</em>.”</p><p>“... Abigail?”</p><p>“Arthur wouldn’t marry her, Arthur was still all tied up with Mary and y’know, they were close, but he had that stupid chip on his shoulder.”</p><p>“... When you left, did you know?”</p><p>“I’ve always known,” John sighs, takes a swig, “Counted it out a thousand times, the timing never lined up n’ I know things can happen but I never… I always pulled out.”</p><p>“So, Arthur was mad at you… When it wasn’t-” Charles swallows and pulls out his handkerchief to wipe himself off, “Good grief, John, did you ever tell him?”</p><p>“Pretty sure at least a hundred times,” John mutters, “Just made it all worse. Made him hate me more.”</p><p>“He didn’t <em>hate</em> you,” Charle insists and tucks himself away, staring at the flames, “We should lay down.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Uncle won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, at least.”</p><p>“... Yeah.”</p><p>“Do you wanna share?” Charles offers quietly and John nods. </p><p>They both get up and John follows the older man to Charles’ bedroll,  settles down on the edge of it and watches Charles shrug out of his suspenders and tug off his shirts. </p><p>“You gonna sleep like that?” Charles asks, gesturing to John still wearing all his clothes, the belt that’s surely not comfortable to be laying on. </p><p>John shrugs lopsidedly. </p><p>Charles grabs his blanket and sits down next to John, pulling the blanket over them as he lays back. </p><p>John’s still clinging to Arthur’s hat. </p><p>“I don’t want him to be disappointed in me,” John admits quietly, “I can’t just… I can’t just <em>not</em> take care of them. But Jack ain’t mine, and I don’t like Abigail like that. S’all a big mess.”</p><p>“You’re gonna give them a home, John. Give Jack a solid place to call home,” Charles murmurs and settles his hand over John’s atop Arthur’s hat, “Give him something none of us had, not even Arthur.”</p><p>“We didn’t need a- A <em>house</em>,”  John whispers, “Gang was our home.”</p><p>“... I’m sorry, John.”</p><p>“You were part of that, too, at the end,” John mumbles, almost shy, “Sure it wasn’t the same for you, the other way ‘round but-”</p><p>“No… I understand,” Charles says and squeezes John’s hand, “I love him.”</p><p>“... Yeah,” John whispers, then makes a rough sound and pulls away to wipe at his eyes, “Ugh, I don’t wanna cry ‘gain.”</p><p>Charles huffs quietly and rolls his eyes before settling down. </p><p>“... Remind me to give you his coat,” John whispers, “Got it in one of the trunks in the wagon.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>John doesn’t respond for a moment then nods, firmly, like he’s settling that decision. </p><p>Turning back towards Charles and moving Arthur’s hat to rest above their heads on the bedroll. </p><p>“Thanks, to you, as well,” John whispers, “For a lot of things, but… Y’know… Sharin’.”</p><p>“I… I’m glad to be here,” Charles says slowly, “With you.”</p><p>John nods, stops, then nods again and scoots a little closer, glancing up at Charles’ face before sliding his arm around the older man’s waist. </p><p>“Goodnight, John,” Charles murmurs. </p><p>“Night.”</p><p>--</p><p>It’s wholly unsurprising that John wakes up hard after last night. </p><p>He groans quietly and presses forward into the solid warmth in front of him. </p><p>Hears Charles laugh softly, voice sleep-hoarse, above his head. </p><p>“Sorry,” John mutters. </p><p>“It’s fine, if you want, don’t mess your pants,” Charles teases him gently and his hand is behind John’s head, fingertips barely resting on John’s nape. </p><p>“Shit,” John mutters, “Don’t say shit like that.”</p><p>“What?” Charles huffs, “Do you remember anything you said last night?”</p><p>John’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then makes a weak sound. </p><p>“You-” John whispers, “Jesus.”</p><p>“Go ahead, John.”</p><p>John lets out another weak sound then presses closer, reaching down between them and palming himself through his trousers. </p><p>“Fuck,” John mutters, “Charles-”</p><p>“You’re good,” Charles murmurs and reaches up for Arthur’s hat. </p><p>Settles it on John’s head just like Arthur did, a little lopsided. </p><p>“No-” John whimpers and squeezes himself, “No, fuck, please-”</p><p>Gasping and grabbing at Charles’ hand, squeezing the older man tightly. </p><p>“John, take yourself out,” Charles whispers and there’s a cloth being pressed against his hip and John doesn’t even know where it came from, everything’s too overwhelming with Charles’ other hand in his as he pulls himself out and strokes himself quickly, shaking and pitching forward into Charles. </p><p>Crying the older man’s name over and over and he thinks Arthur’s slips in a couple times too, but Charles just cups the cloth over the head of the younger man’s cock and stops him from making a mess as he comes. </p><p>John presses his lips together and shoves Arthur’s hat off his head before covering his eyes. </p><p>“Don’t do that- Please,” John whispers shakily, “Please.”</p><p>“... You don’t have to forget him.”</p><p>“He doesn’t <em>know</em>, he can’t- I can’t <em>tell</em> him,” John’s voice cracks hard and his chest hitches. </p><p>“John,” Charles sighs and gently wipes John clean before tossing the cloth into the dirt behind them, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t- Don’t apologize just <em>don’t</em>-” John makes a frustrated sound and swipes at his eyes, “Please.”</p><p>Charles wraps his arm around John’s waist and tugs the younger close to him, reaching for Arthur’s hat and setting it back above their heads. </p><p>“‘M sorry,” John whispers. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I… I feel stupid,” John admits, “And selfish.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>John closes his eyes as tight as he can and breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself down. </p><p>“I was mad,” Charles admits quietly, “Relieved, on his behalf, but when I had to bury him… I was mad.”</p><p>John just listens, Charles has listened to him plenty, he owes him.</p><p>Not that he’d mind it, but he meant it when he said he felt selfish, in such opposition to Charles’ selflessness. </p><p>“There’s a lot of different types of mad, y’know?” Charles whispers, “The kind that’s aimed inward, at another person, at the universe. I was mad at all of them. Mad at Dutch, mad at the way it all went down, mad at myself.”</p><p>“Why yourself?”</p><p>“... He told me he was sick, and we both understood we had things to do in different places,” Charles swallows roughly, loudly, and John lifts his head to see Charles’ dark eyes wet with tears. </p><p>It’s the first time he’s seen Charles even <em>close</em> to crying. </p><p>“I had a feeling that was our last goodbye, I wish I’d said more,” Charles whispers. </p><p>John nods his understanding, sucks in a quick breath to stop himself from crying as well and grabs at the older man, hugging Charles tightly.</p><p>These moments with Charles have been the first times he’s really felt settled, since Arthur died, holding and held. </p><p>“I’m glad you’re here,” John says slowly, “I really, really am.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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